


fundamental forces

by pigeonholeprinciple (pigeonsatdawn)



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, How Do I Tag, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I suppose, Light Angst, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, Sex, Spice, Tears, Tension, Vulnerability, Why Did I Write This?, a tiny amount, are we surprised, because I say so, but like, descriptive equivocation, i am back at it again, i finally write something with logically thought out external conflict, lauren has so much thoughts, more feelings?, more thoughts, not explicit, this is crap, thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27173458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonsatdawn/pseuds/pigeonholeprinciple
Summary: no matter how far they are to be separated, the forces will pull them back together.(alternatively: i’ll always find my way back to you)
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	1. gravity

**Author's Note:**

> > **_“the interactions that do not appear to be reducible to more basic interactions”_ **
> 
> (cr: [wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fundamental_interaction))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kieran White had disappeared off the face of the Earth, and Lauren was left to deal with the upcoming catastrophe by herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > **_“a natural phenomenon by which all things with mass or energy—including planets, stars, galaxies, and even light—are brought toward one another”_ **   
> 
> 
> (cr: [wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gravity))
> 
>  **trigger warning:** sliiiiightly graphic descriptions. (if you're reading purple hyacinth, though, you should be fine.)

**LAUREN HADN’T SLEPT** in the last 40 hours.

The last she slept, she slept for a good 3 hours before being interrupted by a nightmare. Like many of her previous nightmares, it was of the explosion; she couldn’t even distinguish whether it was the one of the past, or the one she was expecting to happen in a few days. When she tried to sleep the next night, her mind was still fresh of the nightmare, and her body was overwhelmed by all the emotions and had reacted in the worst possible ways. Her hands were constantly trembling, her fingernails scratching against skin exposed time and again. Her stomach was bubbling with burning acid, and even though she hadn’t eaten anything decent in the past few days, she felt like throwing up whatever was inside her, may that be her own intestines. Her mind was barely there, and whatever she saw was always blurred in motion, but her head was always throbbing, her heart—whatever’s left of it, anyway—pumping every last drop of blood to her brain to try keep her _alive._

She was tired, in every sense of the word. Physically, her body could barely function properly from the lack of sleep, energy, and the way she overexerted herself on stakeouts and barely let herself heal her own injuries. Mentally, she went over every possible way to prevent whatever’s to come, every single minute of which she was awake in her room, unable to sleep—which proved to be quite hard of a feat to do alone. And worst, emotionally: she was tired, _so_ tired, of feeling everything: the guilt, the grief, the helplessness, and even the feeling of tiredness itself. She just wanted everything to end. She wanted to have a good night’s sleep for once, without having to worry about any possible explosion. She wanted to eat without feeling like throwing up. She wanted to—she wanted to _breathe_ , for a change.

But instead, she was hiding behind some crates in the docks, trying not to pass out as she remained on the lookout for a certain ship containing dangerous explosives.

Now, she’d done plenty of research on the possible details of the ship that was scheduled to arrive by the 14th—which would be tomorrow. According to what the members of the seventh apostle’s operation had said in their meeting in the Carmine Camelia, some batches were already docked in the port, so she’d spent some days in the past weeks staking out the port. She noted that there were similar looking ships, though they seemed to be empty. This was in line to her knowledge that the nitroglycerine should be stocked underground instead of the ships, and it allowed her to come up with the assumption that the identical looking ships may be from the same sender, and that the third and last one would most probably resemble these ships as well. Unfortunately, she soon discovered during her late night stake-outs at the docks, the arriving ships are hard to distinguish in the darkness.

Then again: even if she could identify the ships, she wasn’t quite sure what she’d do to prevent successful delivery. Her plan, at the moment, was simply to try to tail them into their underground hideout, before thinking of what to do with the amount of explosives in there. The plan _clearly_ hadn’t been thought out too well. But thinking had never been Lauren’s strongest forte, especially not when she was constantly on the verge of a brain coma. If only Kieran was with her—

—but that seemed to be the entire problem of the past month or so; Kieran White had been gone for six weeks, to be precise. Ever since New Years, Kieran had simply disappeared off the face of the earth, not a single person in the precinct knowing of his whereabouts. As the person “closest” to him, she was the one expected to know what happened to him, but she didn’t, either. She’d searched almost everywhere—his cave, his apartment, Greychapel; not that she’d particularly cared about him, but she knew she _needed_ him for this, whatever they were doing, to work. But he was gone, just like that, and she had to handle everything alone.

_So much for a deal_ , she thought over and over again when she thought of him, how he just upped and left everything. She vowed to herself that if she ever sees him, she was going to be the first to kill him. _Damn_ his status as the Purple Hyacinth or whatever. She was going to kill him, and she was going to make it _hurt_ , for everything he’d put her through.

This wasn’t the time to think about him, though. Kieran was long gone, and though there was always the possibility that he could reappear any day, she couldn’t rely on him to make a difference. She had to stay on guard, focused, upon what was to come, the passing ships and cargo. After a few good hours of hiding with nothing of importance to note, she gave up and decided to just take a seat on the dirty ground, not minding that her outfit would be stained. She lacked rest, and if the crates offer any little back support she could get, then she’d take it. She leaned her head against the crate, her eyes slowly drooping, but before they could close completely shut, she’d jerk herself awake, blinking herself to reality. 

This happened again and again, until a particularly large ship came into sight. She focused her blurry eyes to the ship to try and make out the features, compare them with the other ships she’s observed. Again, in the darkness, it proved to be a challenge. She lifted herself off the ground, inching closer to the ship to try and get a better look at it. She could briefly register a man running towards the lower deck of the ship, hand on a railing. For a while, he seemed to be looking at her direction, for some odd reason. She didn’t think too much about it, though.

She never would’ve been able to expect what happened next: the ship blew up in flames. 

It was a good distance from her that she didn’t necessarily feel the impact of the explosion, but the sudden brightness—and the painful familiarity of it all—shook her to the core. Her eyes widened in shock as she staggered backwards, and in the split second it all happened, she managed to register the man she saw earlier, flung off the deck as the ship exploded. Silhouetted by the fire, Lauren could barely make out the figure of the man: he seemed to have been prepared for this, as he looked like he was purposely jumping towards the water, which also explained why he ran out to the deck just seconds before the explosion happened.

But more than anything was another sense of familiarity she definitely never would’ve expected at the present time: the hair, messily tied back, loose curls flying around his face; the sword, slightly peeking out of his coat. She’d seen this silhouette before, long before she knew anything about the man, long before the events that turned her decade of investigation around, for better or for worse.

Lauren watched as Kieran White, the Purple Hyacinth, the Phantom Scythe’s most favored assassin, plummeted straight into the water, followed by the rubble from the ship on fire. 

She had the sudden urge to scream, but found that she had lost her voice.

She felt a shadow growing from behind her, but when she turned around, it was too late—her head was hit by a force so hard, she finally blacked out.

* * *

**LAUREN WOKE UP** , for once, to a different type of nightmare. This one manifests itself in two figures: a woman with cotton candy pink curls, and another with natural brunette ones. The former, she knew: Belladona Davenport, who was Harvey Wood’s assassin—she still wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. The latter, though she’d been trailing for weeks now, she still had no idea the identity of. 

Belatedly, she registered her current predicament. She was tied up to a chair, classic interrogation style. She didn’t recognize the area around her; they must’ve had taken her away from the docks and brought her underground, or at least some building, because she was confined in a dark, suffocating room with no windows whatsoever. She wondered how long had she been out, and why the acclaimed ruthless assassin would spare her _twice_ , but this curiosity was soon satisfied: “Tell me, Sinclair, why have you been lurking around in the docks?

_Well_ , Lauren thought to herself, _if you think I’ll satisfy you with an answer knowing you’ll kill me right after, I won’t tell you a thing, obviously_. Unfortunately, she seemed to not have been proficient in hiding her thoughts, because the assassin commented, “You know, if you stall, I’ll just have to torture the truth out of you.”

_You assassins and your brutal, ineffective interrogation methods_. She wanted to roll her eyes, but thought better than to provoke the violent assassin, so she kept her mouth shut instead, keeping her eyes cast to the ground. Of course, Belladona took this as a challenge if anything. She pointed her dagger under Lauren’s chin, forcing her to lift her face up so as to not touch the poison of the dagger. “Come on, now, _officer_ ,” she taunted with her sultry voice. “Grace us with your intellect; how did you, after all your higher-ups have done to demote you from your position as a detective, manage to discover much more than what _they_ know? **_We’re just curious, is all._** ”

Lauren physically winced at the lie, and she cursed internally—not that she’d really thought they’d notice, but she couldn’t really afford any kind of weakness at the moment, not when she was under the captive of two terrifying Phantom Scythe ladies. She tried prying out of the ropes that tied her wrists, but couldn’t do much, so she began trying to untie them. She looked at the women in the face to try keep their gaze in her eyes. She tried to speak, anything, any lie, but she couldn’t even muster the energy to do so.

Then, for some cursed reason, she thought of Kieran and the way he’d leaped out of the burning ship into the ocean. Anger bubbled up in her almost immediately, and she felt a surge of energy spike through her bloodstream. _What in the_ world _was he thinking?_ She thought, feeling a whirl of emotions. On one hand, she was glad that at least he seemed to have been in the city just in time for the planned possibility of an explosion. But she was more bothered by the fact that he had quite literally flung himself to possible death the second after she’d finally seen him in more than a month. And even in her botheredness, she wasn’t sure whether she was pissed that he’d shown up at such a horrible timing that ended up in her capture, or whether she was more scared for him—that he’d really just… died, gone like that, and that her feelings were more to the… “reminiscent” side, wanting to have him back with her, so she no longer had to go through these infiltrations alone. 

As stubborn as she was, she had to admit that working with Kieran was really for the best. No matter how much she hated him and what he’d done to her, she cannot deny that they worked more efficiently with each other, sharing information, rather than apart, alone. The energy she’d expended working on her own had worn her body out so much, her friends were beginning to grow concern for her. She gave lame reasons such as post-breakup heartbreak, but at this point she was sure her best friends had already pinned her as Lune, and wouldn’t be surprised if they suspected Kieran as the other half of Lune as well.

And though she won’t admit it, she kind of missed his presence in general. She missed having someone to share her agony with, the knowledge that this calamity could be happening, someone who understood her fear. Then there was also the irrational feelings: missing the simple banters, their sparring sessions, his teases, no matter how annoying they are. She knew she shouldn’t be trusting him at all—especially not after pulling a stunt as big as disappearing, after being all high and mighty in his “apology”, promising the safety of her and her friends. Perhaps that was what irked her more than anything: the fact that, for a while, the safety he promised _had_ been there; she’d _felt_ it, and it was gone along with him, and she no longer had someone to rely on in her pursuit of truth and justice.

And now he might be dead. She didn’t know how to feel about that.

She didn’t have to think too much about it, fortunately—or perhaps quite unfortunately, because Belladona began to push the blade closer to her neck. In an instinctive response, she pushed herself back, the chair sliding through the concrete floor in an annoying screech. She struggled with the rope she was still in the middle of untying, but she was slowly getting to the last loop to untangle. Belladona crooned, “Honey, don’t think about it too hard; just tell us what we want to know, **_and we’ll let you go._ ** Sounds like a good deal, doesn’t it?”

Lauren eyed the blade with fear, before glaring at the pink-haired woman. She was contemplating her actions: her feet were still tied up, so she couldn’t target Belladona’s lower body with her feet, nor could she walk a far distance away from her. Yet, she had to somehow avoid the poisonous dagger, and her movements were quite limited. Her hands were now free, but she was still pondering where to target, where to move, what to _do_.

“Maybe you’re just bad at covering your tracks,” Lauren not-so-politely offered, before bringing her hands forward to grab her hand with the dagger. The assassin was quick to respond, drawing her arm backwards with ease before striking again, but Lauren had seen it coming and dodged by forcibly turning the chair around. She then pushed her body forward so that her chair was shielding her body as she rushed to untie the ropes around her ankles, moving as much as possible to prevent the assassin from being able to attack her. The brunette woman drawled, “Can’t we just shoot her?”

Belladona hummed, before drawling, “Nah, it’ll be much funner to watch her try to spew out the truth as she gets eaten up by the poison, don’t you think?” She pulled the chair back up as Lauren was untying the ropes around her body, her hands fumbling tremendously, pressured by time and fear. She finished undoing the knot just as Belladona placed her dagger on her neck, and Lauren could already feel the poison stinging, biting down her skin. She wanted to scream, but she already lacked energy; she didn’t want to waste more on doing something so pointless, knowing it wasn’t going to change the fact that she was going to _die_. 

She focused whatever’s left of her energy to try to stay alive instead. She backed herself while she grabbed Belladona’s wrist and twisted her arm, forcing her to drop the dagger. When the dagger fell, she bent her knees to pick it up, and tried to crawl her way out the only door in the room. But the brunette woman was there, a gun in hand, and Belladona was coming from her from the other side—

All three heads turned when the door behind the brunette woman opened, revealing a drenched Kieran White, covered in a terrible mixture of soot and blood, there was barely any white patch of skin on him anymore. He was clearly worn out; he was limping ever so slightly, balancing his weight on his sword like it was a cane, his smile more like a grimace. “Well, well, Bella,” he mused, the voice coming out heavy but intact, “seems like you’ve been slacking on your job, under the immunity you assumed out of the leader’s ‘trust’ in you.”

_How in the world is he—_ Lauren was thinking, but she was quick to note the visible shift in the air, a tension that Kieran had clearly caused in his words. The brunette woman turned to look at Belladona with a disapproving eyebrow raised, while the female assassin groaned at him. “Do you _have_ to ruin everything I get, Kieran?” she whined, not too particularly bothered that she was just outed. “I was _just_ going to deal with her,” and even though she had had her golden viper dagger on Lauren’s throat mere seconds ago, Lauren knew that Belladona was referring to the brunette woman in this case.

“And when, pray tell, were you going to deal with Mr. Scarface?” Lauren tensed upon the allusion of the source of her problems, Tim Sake. Kieran spared Lauren a split-second glance, eyes focused on the recent scar on her neck, before saying, “because I’m pretty sure he was still alive when he, I don’t know, **_pushed me in the water when I was just casually strolling on the docks, making sure that at least the shipments arrive safe and sound._** ”

Belladona reached for her dagger, before remembering that it was in Lauren’s hands. She sighed in frustration, and Kieran followed her line of sight to Lauren’s hand, before raising an eyebrow. “Dear God, Bella, you even got your dagger taken away by a mere captive of yours! I’d wonder why you haven’t yet killed her, but I can’t say I’m too surprised. **_There must be a good reason the Leader’s sent me to clean up your messy work._** ”

Lauren took a moment to appreciate Kieran’s impeccable ability to bluff—she rarely heard him lie, because he usually used half-truths with her, but now the lie was clearly necessary, and not a problem as the Phantom Scythe ladies didn’t have her ability. Belladona rested her hands on her hips instead. “Kieran, I wonder why you’re even here. You’ve no business in the docks, and here you are, stalling me from doing my work. And judging by the way she hasn’t struck at any of us, I think it’s safe to assume that you two know each other.”

“Not only is that _terrible_ logic—I literally just told you why I’m here, honey,” Kieran deadpanned, “ ** _The leader sent me to clean up the members of Seven’s op._ ** So if you’re done dawdling over **_this random girl—_** ” Kieran side-eyed Lauren, his eyes glaring so subtly, and she made a faux-oblivious face at him, “—either do your job, or let me finish them both. **_I want to earn my money._** ”

“Belladona,” the brunette woman addressed the assassin with scorn and offense, “You’ve been crossing us all this time?”

The assassin rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, the brunette took a shot in her direction, bullet grazing her coat, and she gasped in faux-shock. “Vicky!” she exclaimed. “How could you—”

But the brunette woman wasn’t so patient, so she took another shot, narrowly missing Belladona’s temple as she swerved to avoid the bullet. This finally brought Lauren off her momentary shock, recoiling from her frozen state. Kieran also seemed to finally be moving once more, his hand holding the barrel of the brunette’s gun to prevent her from shooting again. “I take it you’ll deal with Victoria,” he said, head turning to Belladona’s direction. 

“Did you kill Sake?” the assassin finally spoke seriously since Lauren was in consciousness. 

Kieran nodded. “ ** _Unless he’s able to crawl out of the dirty waters with half a broken head and a stab wound through his chest, he should be dead._** ” Lauren began to wonder what Kieran had actually done to Sake, but she wasn’t allowed much time to think, because Bella was already lunging for her dagger.

Lauren was torn between whether to use the poisonous dagger against her or to just fight her, enough to put the dagger out of reach. As much as she despised the assassin, she didn’t want to kill her—otherwise she’d be exactly just like her. So she did the next best thing she could think of: she ran for the exit, dagger in hand. Her body was bruised and she had barely any energy left, yet she made it to the door, when the brunette somehow managed to pull the trigger again, aiming it to the direction of the door, catching Lauren by surprise. 

“Good job, Victoria,” Kieran mocked, drawling, before grabbing the gun by force and grabbing the collar of her coat, pushing her towards the other assassin. With his other hand, in the same instant, he grabbed Lauren by her elbow, smearing blood on it— _why did he have so much blood on his hands, if he hadn’t murdered Sake?_ she wondered, but there wasn’t enough time to—and took Belladona’s dagger off her hands. She didn’t have time to protest when Kieran flung the dagger back to its owner; even though she wasn’t planning on using it anytime soon, she’d thought it’d be wiser to _not_ let the weapon fall on the hands of the ruthless assassin. “You two can battle it out, while I find out what’s the deal with this little lady,” he announced, staring intently at Lauren’s eyes, not a single hint of mercy in his eyes. 

Lauren contemplated for a moment whether he was seriously going to kill her, because she didn’t quite recognize this Kieran—while he had the same snark, same inflated ego, same ability to bluff even in pressing situations, he definitely looked more weary, hardened by whatever he’d gone through. She wondered whether he still had the same goals he did when he proposed the deal between them, whether he’d still honor the promises he made that night in the Carmine Camelia. She pretended to struggle out of his grasp as he dragged her out of the room, into a similar looking space, except rather than a room, it was a hallway—and she realized that this was probably the underground that she’d spent so much time trying to find but could never come close to the entrance.

Then she seemed to register the reality: Kieran was there, catching his breath, leaning against a wall as he pressed his fingers on his temple. He was wincing from some headache, she realized, and she remembered that he had quite literally just jumped out of a ship as it was exploding, and dived straight in the ocean. She had so many questions—the simplest of them being, _how the hell are you still alive_ —but seeing the poor man covered in so much burns, bruises, and blood, she decided to hold her tongue for the time being.

If she were to be honest with herself, she was just… glad that at least he was alive. Maybe it was because he had saved her, but maybe it just had been a while since she’d seen him, and she might actually miss him. She didn’t know why, she didn’t quite care why—but she instinctively reached out to him, supporting his slouching body, even if she herself was lacking energy to stand.

But it had been such a while since they’d last seen each other, and so when Kieran looked at Lauren, he looked at her with hazed eyes, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing her again. Lauren understood the feeling—it all felt surreal; after all, he’d literally disappeared, reappeared, watched him jump to his death, and appeared fully and painfully alive. She couldn’t quite believe that he was _here_ , back, and for her. He was evidently struggling equally, his eyes trying to focus on her, but seemingly lost in whatever thought spiral he was in.

When he refocused, he shook his head to clear himself of residual thoughts, before walking down the hallway, his hand still on Lauren’s arm, but not putting pressure. All of a sudden, though, Kieran stopped. Lauren thought for a moment that he could’ve heard someone approaching, and held her breath in anticipation. But then, she took notice of the way his eyes were, again, unfocused, and he was back deep in thought.

“Kieran,” she whispered, nudging his shoulder. When he didn’t respond, she spun him to face her, but his eyes remained unfocused. “Hey, Kieran, _focus_ ,” she hissed, and she pondered upon the idea that he could’ve been hypnotized somehow, because she had snapped her fingers in front of his face and he _still_ wasn’t responding.

So she sighed in frustration, running a hand through her hair, damp with sweat. She pulled Kieran back and took watch of the hallway, looking left and right for signs of anyone coming. She didn’t know the way, so she prayed a quick prayer to whoever was listening, in hopes that she didn’t get herself more tangled in the underground tunnels. “I swear to God, Kieran,” Lauren mumbled under her breath—

—and then, for the second time that day, a blunt force struck her head, causing her body to collapse. Her vision faded into darkness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “fun” facts:
> 
>   * gravity is the weakest of the fundamental forces. (definitely hadn’t been expecting that, but it’s true.)
>   * gravity, however, is the only force that does not repel, only attracts.
>   * the gravitational field has an infinite range.
> 

> 
> hence why this chapter is titled gravity.
> 
> general idea was slightly inspired by the percy jackson & charles beckendorf cruise scene in **the last olympian** (my favorite book in the entire series!) and the fake ship scene in **six of crows** (though the sword like cane part was a funny coincidence). the name victoria for the brunette woman is credits to [fwoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fwootloops) (@fwootloops on discord); i was getting tired of calling her the brunette woman. 
> 
> yeah, this was long as hell. i estimated that it’d be around 2.5k - 3k words at most because i had 26 bullet points for this so i thought one point would be 100 words. i clown myself, as always. 
> 
> and, yes, i planned this fic—unlike incalescence, which was a one-shot i decided to turn into a three-shot at the last minute, and wrote everything straight from my brain—because the original idea i have would not make sense as it is, and i had to add a prequel to it (meaning the original fic i wanted to write was only the next chapter, and, uh, you’ll see what it is :D) i’m slightly glad i decided on this rather than just… the next chapter, because i also rarely write into much detail about lune’s activities and such, because i don’t like thinking much about the factual details of it. (all the more reason why i thought it pertinent to plan.)
> 
> interesting stats: this chapter, 4.2k words, was written in 6 hours (so an avg of 800 words per hour). i paused my writing to write a messy argumentative essay on why i’d choose to kill off kym among the main four, the essay being 800 words, written in 30 minutes. yeah, you can see where my talents lie better. (then again—the essay was messy, and this story is… albeit not excellent, at least planned enough.) and the last 4 hours in which i wrote this, i was getting sleepier, because i’m running on 2 hours of sleep, so i will go back to sleep.
> 
> (p.s. i swear my authors note are another whole fic in themselves.  
> p.p.s. dm me in discord (@elle, find me in the server) or instagram (@pigeonsatdawn) if you want my interesting essay ;))


	2. electromagnetism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lauren may just have to kill Kieran White for leaving her again. (She does something else entirely, though.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > **_"a type of physical interaction that occurs between electrically charged particles"_ **
> 
> (cr: [wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electromagnetism), again)
> 
>  **warning:** this episode contains mature themes. there is one particular paragraph i'm worried about, but i don't want to label it under mature simply for 2% of the entire chapter, and it's not even explicit to begin with. _**if you are underage, please skip ahead. please. i beg you.**_

**THE FIRST THING** Lauren registered upon regaining consciousness was the sound of running water. The sound was faint, but in the quiet ambience of the night, it was amplified by much. Her other senses slowly began to kick in: she registered the strong smell of iron, along with the faint smell of trees soaked in rainwater; she felt the damp soil beneath her and the coldness of the wind clothing her skin; she noticed the dryness of her mouth and the taste of bile, still in the back of her throat. Her eyes were the last to focus, and it, provided the moonlight from the full moon, confirmed where she was, to an extent. 

She was sprawled somewhere deep in the woods. She couldn’t see the river, but from hearing it, she knew there must be one, somewhere close. And if she was to recall accurately, close to the river was a waterfall, and behind the waterfall was Kieran’s cave, one that held too many unpleasant memories.

Kieran White himself was a different, and quite complicated story. When she thought about Kieran she was reminded of the last thing she remembered before blacking out for the second time in a single night: she _had_ been with Kieran. But she was absolutely lost as to how she ended up in the forest, undead, and _without_ Kieran. 

Her mind went through all the possibilities, but none of them made sense. They had been underground, and Kieran had been so uncharacteristically dazed out, he couldn’t have brought her out of the underground all the way to the woods without being seen. Even if he could, he probably wouldn’t have left her too openly in the woods, or at least that was what she’d like to believe he would do. Then she thought again, and realized that everything that she had seen of Kieran White had been uncharacteristic of him. Recklessly blowing up a ship and jumping straight into deep waters, somehow surviving it in one piece and, like a miracle, managed to get her out of an interrogation by two Phantom Scythe members, and then looked like his soul was no longer in him, a walking corpse: none of these looked like something Kieran White would, or even _could_ , do.

And then she began to wonder again: was this all a dream? Where did reality end and blend into this figment of an imagination? Had she been so desperate to work with him again, that he was beginning to manifest himself in her stakeouts? 

Was he dead? Was _she_ dead? Was she in hell, and was this forest her personal hell loop of having to go to Kieran’s cave to be harmed by him, have her “life” choked out of her, again and again and again?

The last case seemed entirely possible when she concluded that, no matter what the current circumstance was, she had to go to Kieran’s cave to find out. He was the last person to have seen her, and the last person she’d seen, so if anyone knows anything it must be him. Judging from the way she’d been dropped off relatively near his cave, her current theory was that he dropped her here somehow and went to the cave alone, but why exactly she wasn’t so sure yet. She was going to find out, though, and when she found Kieran she was going to kill him.

That was, of course, if he wasn’t already dead. No matter how much she hated him, she was wishing desperately that he was not already dead yet, because there were so many things she wanted to do, to _say_ to the bastard.

In her ragged state, she made her way to the river, crossing it and going behind the waterfall to access the cave. Upon walking towards the entrance, her hand instinctively reached towards her neck—

—she recoiled almost immediately, the bare touch stinging sharply down the skin of her neck. She then remembered how Belladona’s dagger had come in contact with it, the poison taking immediate effect. She wondered again how she was still alive after everything that happened that day. She wondered whether she had been blown up along with the ship, whether everything that happened between the two blackouts had been a dream of despair, a dying hope, wishing that Kieran White would somehow survive the ship’s explosion.

The gate to the cave had been locked, so she picked the lock and entered it, fists clenched in anticipation, fear, and a minute amount of rage. She soon found out that Kieran was, in fact, not in the cave, and wondered why he’d left the cage open then. She looked around to see what had changed since her last unfortunate visit, and noticed that the information board had been filled with a tremendous amount of new information, a whole bunch of paperwork, a messy knife rack, and—concerningly—a pile of bloodied bandages, on the very ground they used to spar on.

She first went to the info board, finding new information on new people, many of which she barely knew about. She noticed that a common attribute in some of these people was that they were collected in Greychapel, which wasn’t much of a surprise to her. She also spotted his little handwritten notes in the margins of various documents, which indicated how he had interacted with them, the things they had said to him. It reminded her that Kieran, though often seemingly playful and mindless, actually took note of plenty of details that people wouldn’t on regular circumstances. From the notes she also assumed that Kieran’s disappearance may have not been 100% willing, like she previously believed it was. She began to remember the things he said about his job: that he had to play the role well if he wanted to get to the leader, that she stuck exactly to his orders, no less and no more. 

She was just frustrated upon the fact that he had, again, failed to inform her regarding his plans, since it affected them both, their progress in finding the leader, and not only him alone. This, after all, was _exactly_ the problem that had caused their deal to break in the first place. Sure, the deal had been off when he’d disappeared, but they were still working together up to the night of New Years, and she needed him. He _knew_ she needed him. He’d forced her to trust him somehow, and then he went and burned that trust _again_.

Every minute that passes, she thought of killing Kieran in more violent ways.

She finally inspected the bloodied bandages, and concluded that Kieran had _definitely_ been in the cave, whether before or after she had blacked out for a second time, judging by the smell of fresh blood. She doubted he had time to travel to the cave and back to the docks after he’d fallen out into the sea, especially in a horrible condition, so she supposed it was during her second black out. It was likely, then, that he had known about her being stranded in the woods, or was even the one to drop her there. 

The question, of course, was: _why_? And she was going to get the answer by all means.

So she left the cave and trudged all the way back into the city. So many questions ran through her head as she dragged her aching feet, from dirty soil to dirty ground, and to the cleaner roads of the city. Whilst all this, she had to make sure that she won’t be seen by anyone—it would be hard to explain how she got into such a messy situation to any regular, law-abiding person, and it probably wouldn’t do good to show up in such a weak state in the sights of a Phantom Scythe member. She had grit, always, and enough rage to kill Kieran White—but she wasn’t sure if she could go through another round of holding off assassins, or deal with their petty issues of betrayal.

When she reached the bridge, just a few more minutes to Kieran’s apartment, her knees buckled, and she sighed in frustration. She hated the state of her body: unsynchronized, where her mind ran at full speed and her body was nowhere near capable of catching up. But she had to go on, so she dragged herself up, grunting, and ploughed her way on, her journey slower and slower, stopping occasionally to take deep breaths. And when Kieran’s apartment finally appeared in sight, she didn’t bother making her presence known immediately. Instead, she dropped lifelessly on the steps, resting her eyes for a few seconds, letting her body breathe in relief.

The relief didn’t last long, immediately followed by the bubbling feelings of nervousness. _What if he isn't home? What if he’s disappeared once more, back into whatever business the Leader had assigned him to? What if someone had taken him on his way back to the apartment? What if he’s really dead?_

_No. He can’t be dead yet._

_How are you sure—_

_Only one way to find out_ , Lauren cut off her spiral of thoughts with reluctant resolve, before standing up in front of his door. She knocked quietly, half-hearted about her decision to come here. _Should I just have gone home?_

When no one answered, dread was beginning to fill her. Then fear. Then she thought, if she didn’t know for sure, she could pretend that he was still somewhere out there, alive, doing more research or something. So she turned around, thinking that she should just rest up, and deal with Kieran another day. 

But Lauren didn’t like not knowing, so she halted in her steps, turned around again, and this time she knocked more loudly, impatiently.

It took a while, but eventually the door opened. In the doorway stood a dishevelled, exhausted, and very much alive Kieran White.

* * *

**KIERAN WAS GREETED** with a massive slap in the face. Perhaps it was only rightful that he did; after all, he had knocked the living daylights out of Lauren Sinclair, and left her unconscious body in the middle of the forest, while he enjoyed the warmth of the apartment.

But Kieran wasn’t in the best state himself, and so he didn’t do much other than gently touch the spot she slapped him on, as he watched ten billion emotions flash through Lauren’s eyes. He couldn’t quite identify her emotions, but he was sure that she was going to kill him any day now. And perhaps he should just let her, after all he’d put her through. Neither of them said anything for a good minute. Realizing the complicatedness of their situation and their lives being quite at stake, he opened the door wider, a sign for her to come in so they could talk. 

Lauren headed in without much hesitation, stomping her way inside. She did a double take when she saw the first aid kit materials scattered on the table, and seemed to have realized just how injured Kieran had been, after all he’d been through. She turned around to see Kieran, but now with worry and hesitation in her eyes.

Kieran, seeing this, shook his head. “Lauren, I’m sorry,” he said to start.

Lauren’s eyes turned into slits, remembering the entire reason she came to begin with. “That you should be,” she agreed. “Explain yourself.”

Kieran ran a hand through his hair, sighing. Clearly he was just as lethargic as Lauren was. “Sit down,” he said to Lauren, chin jutting in the direction of the stool. He headed to the side of the couch, and leaned against its arm. He began, “You went to the cave, I assume?”

“Yes, because you quite literally dropped me in front of the cave,” Lauren accused, glaring at him as she took a seat on the stool, facing him. She crossed her arms, trying to intimidate him as much as she could in her exhausted state.

Kieran merely sighed. “Yes, that I did. I had to get you as far from the docks, as far from the underground, as far from the eyes of the Phantom Scythe as possible, so I knocked you out. I made it look like I was cleaning up a dead body, carrying you out of there, because it was the only way I could get out with you without suspicion.”

“I thought you were _paralyzed_ ,” Lauren told him in disbelief.

“No, I was thinking. I heard some shuffling from the end of the corridor, and was thinking of the best way to get you out without having to kill anybody.”

Lauren groaned. “You could’ve just _whispered_ to me somehow. I could’ve played dead or something. You made me worried, you dumb fuck.”

Kieran flashed a weak smirk. Then Lauren asked again, “Why didn’t you just carry me to the cave?”

“Didn’t want to risk anyone finding out,” Kieran admitted. “If you went in there, then you probably would’ve seen the amount of new information I’ve collected over the past six weeks—”

“Speaking of which—” Lauren cut him off, her rage coming back in full force upon the reminder.

“—we’ll get to that later,” Kieran assured her, and Lauren slouched back in her seat. “Basically I dropped you in the forest, went back out, made sure no one was trailing, then went through a different route to the cave. If anyone was trailing, they must’ve been sent by Bella, so they’d just go if they confirmed that I was really just dropping your body and not in cohorts with you like she suspected. I double-checked that no one was following, but I can’t take chances.”

“How long has it been since you dropped me off?”

“A good hour or so,” Kieran informed. “I was in the cave for half an hour, and I was here another half. Adding the trip from the docks to the forest and back here, you passed out a little less than two hours.”

Lauren let out a low breath. “It’s a miracle no one actually came to kill me at that time,” she muttered, and Kieran chuckled dryly. The sound made Lauren glare instinctively, and Kieran’s expression melted to solemnity once more.

“Now where have you been all this time?”

Kieran’s fingers pressed his temples, taking his time to think of the best way to explain the situation. “You went to the cave, didn’t you? You saw the info board.”

“You collected them during your missions,” Lauren assumed, and Kieran nodded in confirmation.

“The leader sent me in an entirely different infiltration mission, all of a sudden. Had nothing to do with the 11th precinct, nothing to do with Seven’s op. And it wasn’t like I could refuse. I couldn’t ask questions, but I collected enough information on my own to know what was going on.”

“And what was—never mind that,” Lauren shook her head. She asked what she wanted to know first: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything, Lauren,” Kieran said wearily. “You have a job.”

“So did you, and you just upped and left without so much of a word.”

He scoffed. “Lauren, my job is as the Purple Hyacinth, not an archivist,” he reminded her, and Lauren’s mouth hung in the air from not knowing what to say. He _was_ right, after all. She just needed an excuse to argue with his every word. 

“Can’t they just—” Lauren sighed, realizing that what was done, was done anyway. “You could’ve told me anyway, and we could’ve planned out what to do, what I could do while you were gone.”

“I think you’ve done an okay job at finding information yourself,” Kieran shrugged.

Lauren squinted her eyes. “And you know this, how?” After all, she hadn’t made much progress in finding the Leader since Kieran’s disappearance, instead searching more information about the truth behind her parents’ and Dylan’s deaths.

“Well aside from the fact that you were clearly going to trail the delivery of the nitro to the underground, which though reckless, is probably what I’d do given the pressing time—” Kieran informed, “I have been watching you, time to time.”

Lauren lifted her arms in frustration. “And you couldn’t just have talked to me?” she groaned exasperatedly. Then she shifted to the next cause of her overwhelming emotions today: “While we’re at the topic: why did you suddenly reappear today, out of all days, and if you thought what I was doing was a good idea, why did you go ahead and blow up the damn ship?”

“I’d wish you’re asking me that because you’re concerned for my life, but alas,” Kieran lamely attempted joking, but of course Lauren didn’t humor him. “I figured it would be better to blow it up in the water than in the grounds, of course. Turned out to be a good thing, seeing how Bella had yet to murder _any_ of the other members of the op. At this rate, Seven’s op was going to actually be carried out, and having less nitro to blow up the land seemed like a good idea.”

“Did you not consider the fragility of the physical human nature?” Lauren questioned with scorn.

Kieran looked at her oddly. “And here I thought you considered me anything but human,” he mused.

Immediately Lauren lost her confidence. There was so much that had happened during the past weeks, things that had changed the way she viewed the world, the way she viewed her own values and whatever the hell human meant. In that time when Kieran was gone, she had done so much digging, and often nearly risked her life. She had gone through so much altercations with Phantom Scythe criminals, and if it weren’t for that hardheadedness in retaining her humanity, that disgust for murderers, she’d probably have killed so much of these people. But instead she opted to keep running for her life, as it was the only thing she could do. Disguise, hide, and when caught, run. She had to stay alive if she wanted to see the leader’s, and the syndicate’s, demise.

Amongst these, she realized just how hard it was to be patient, to retain a semblance of humanity in the midst of such a broken world. And along with her constant want to have Kieran back as a partner to carry half her burden, she was beginning to understand just how well of a job Kieran had actually done, balancing between the pursuit of his mission and retaining some humanity. She could still hardly consider him decent, not after the crimes he’d committed, but she out of all people should have seen the true person that was Kieran White, that was distinct from the Purple Hyacinth—all the little effort he puts to stay human, the things no one saw, the things he did for a slightly better future, even if that meant plenty of sacrifices. That sacrifice even extended to his life, as she had seen from the docks earlier.

If it was her, and if her only choice was to be an assassin in the Phantom Scythe to get vengeance, she would probably have spiralled far far worse than Kieran White ever could.

Surely, none of these excused what he did to her. But he had been right, too: she had been selfish when she stormed in and accused him for all the things he did, for calling him a monster. She hadn’t been thinking at all, acting on her own emotions, and so perhaps she couldn’t fully blame him for going feral on her. He was at fault, but so was she, and now she understood better. And though she could never fully call him human, she could hardly call him a monster, not when she knew she’d be just as much of a monster if in his position. Not when she’d seen such a human side of him.

She took a look at Kieran’s expression, his face a canvas painted with time; traces of stubble lining his chin, eyebags carrying his lethargy, wrinkles through his forehead. The more she saw him, the more human he seemed, if anything—just another human with physical boundaries, just another human with feelings, another human with goals.

She focused on his cyan eyes, dark under the dim lighting of the apartment, looking at her with so much—so much _emotions_ , so much longing, so much pain, so much _regret_.

She’d seen so many sides of Kieran, she couldn’t say for sure whether the one she was seeing is even real or not. She was beginning to wonder whether Kieran was even really alive, or whether he was just here because she kept thinking of him whenever she was out, alone, wishing for him to be here. She was wondering whether all those nights of not sleeping had caused her to black out, and now, she was in an extended dream where he missed her just as much as she’d missed him.

Kieran—he could believe this just as much as she did. He’d left, and he never would’ve expected to see Lauren, up close, in his apartment, ever again; not when she looked so weak, her guard let down, pained so emotionally. He’d spent days imagining when he’d see her—he’d thought that he would meet her in Redcliff’s ball, where they’d be masked, and he’d be able to joke his feelings away, while the officer would seethe in rage for what he’d done. He wasn’t expecting any form of compassion from her, not ever, not when he’d broken her trust _twice_ now.

But there she sat, looking up at him with the warmest glow of gold he’d probably ever see in his entire life, and he missed her. So, so much. He wanted to—to embrace her, tell her he missed her, tell her he was here to stay—but even he didn’t know whether that could be true, not when the Leader held the strings, not when his acts were limited to where the Leader places him in.

He wanted to tell her—

“—Kieran, are you really here?” Lauren croaked, her voice coming out in wisps of air.

He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t quite respond.

She stood up and slowly, in broken steps, walked over to him. She looked at him, their faces now very close in proximity. She held up her hand, ghosting over his face. She was scared; she didn’t dare touch him. She was scared of… of what she might do if she found out the truth, and what she’d do. But Kieran kept looking at her, _into_ her eyes, drinking every last bit he could see in her. He was just as scared as she was. He was sure she could see that.

In the haze of her emotions and her tiredness, Lauren softly grabbed his chin, and slowly dipped her face, her mouth hovering over his. Kieran cupped the back of her head, his fingers threading her hair. A beat passed. Lauren’s eyes shifted constantly between his eyes and his lips. He kept his on hers, not daring to make the first move. He never dared anymore, when it came to her.

Gently, Lauren’s eyelids fluttered close, and she pressed her lips against his. 

When she didn’t pull back, Kieran kissed her back, with a little more pressure. When she opened her eyes she saw that his were shut in earnest _pain_. She then closed her eyes with equal anguish and kissed him with more fervor, feeling the taste of his upper lip between her lips. He matched her pace, sucking on her lower lip as gently yet as emotionally. She began to open up, letting his tongue roam her mouth, and even though their mouths had been completely dry, the other tasted so, so much better than the dry taste of dread, of hopelessness, that had filled them the last few weeks.

It didn’t take long for them to inch closer to each other. In no time, she was between his thighs, her one hand grasping her hair and the other on the nape of his neck, thumb pressed against his collarbone. His hand rested on her waist, another still on the back of her head. When they broke apart, they opened their eyes for a moment. His eyes were hooded, and yet so much anguish shone in his irises. He clearly wanted more, Lauren thought, and wasn’t brave enough to have her. They were both still very much scared, scared of ruining whatever… was, whatever they were. And she watched as Kieran realized the reality and his eyes faded back into somewhere distant, away from the tangible.

But Lauren _needed_ the tangible. She needed to know for sure that he was here, he was _real_. She grew desperate. “Kieran,” she called, as if reaching out to someone far down a well. “Kieran, tell me you’re here.”

“I’m here,” he said, but she didn’t believe it. She wasn’t sure where he’d gone, but he—he wasn’t there.

“Kieran—” her voice broke off, and he snapped back to her. He realized how badly he’d been disassociating from reality—even back underground, and here, again, he’d allowed himself to drown in thoughts of Lauren, without even considering Lauren in reality, without considering the way she’d have felt after his appearance in such a long time. And so he decided that, at the very least of what he _should_ do, he would do what she asked for—he’d convince her that he was there. He would be there for her. 

So he pulled her face back to his, this time kissing her with intense passion, not hesitating one bit. And Lauren—such an equal, in so many ways—did not fall short to his zeal, not allowing him to overpower her, even in a shared kiss. Her hands roamed down his body, from his arms to his abs and back to his chest, before her fingers rested on the collar of his shirt, gripping it with shaky hands. Kieran opened his eyes to look at Lauren, who was looking down. “Lauren,” he whispered. “Are you sure?”

It took a moment, but Lauren lifted her head to look at him with conviction. “I’m—it’s the one thing I’ve been sure of since I’ve seen you tonight. I want you here. _Please_.”

 _God_. Kieran couldn’t even hide the force of his emotions; he was sure she could see it in his everything, in his breath, in his eyes, in the way his hands tremble ever so slightly against her skin. As Lauren fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, he looked at her face, noted the fact that she’d denied herself of these emotions for so long, and slowly began peppering her face with slow, open-mouthed kisses. He did not dare leave marks—he could never leave another mark on her, he’d sworn to himself that he never would.

Little did he know, the new mark he’d left in her was so, so much larger, so much more painful than the ones on her neck. But she couldn’t help herself. He caused the pain, but he was the only way to soothe the pain. Because the pain was the terrifying set of feelings she had for him.

When his lips met hers again, Kieran guided them into the bedroom. He laid under her, as she allowed herself to drink in the sight of his body, adorned with scars of various times and places. Lauren wondered, but she didn’t ask, instead deciding to trail her fingers over the scars softly, kissing each and every one. She noticed that some of them were fresh, especially the burn scars, which she assumed would be from the ship explosion earlier. When she grazed her fingers over it, she asked quietly, “Does it still hurt?”

“‘m used to it,” he said, and though it concerned her that it was the truth, she wouldn’t have expected otherwise. She kissed the scars, even though she knew it wouldn’t ease the pain away, like her parents told her. “I’m sorry that you went through so much,” she told him honestly, voice in a low whisper.

“I’m sure you have your own scars, and I’m sorry for those, too,” Kieran said genuinely as she pressed her lips against his chest. Though he spoke quietly, she could feel the vibrations of his voice that sent shivers down her skin. She then proceeded to tug her own shirt off her body, wondering why she hadn’t done so earlier, especially noting how dirty it had been after everything that happened throughout the night. Remembering that, she realized just how bizarre the entire day was, and wondered once again whether this was all a dream.

“It’s not a dream,” Kieran reassured her, a hand on her cheek, as if he could read her mind. “I’m here. You’re here with me. It’s all real, darling.”

She wanted to crumble then and there, but she didn’t. Kieran turned their positions around, so that Lauren was now under her, while he took the time to pay attention to her scars. She didn’t have as much as she did—despite being an officer, her job was never so dangerous as to warrant serious scars, but the investigations were a whole different story—but Kieran treated them as seriously nonetheless, carrying on his shoulders some guilt from the knowledge that if he was there to protect her, perhaps—

“It’s not your fault,” Lauren said softly, hand on his shoulder, as he caressed the stab wound below her breast. “I was careless.”

“And I promised to be there for you, to not let you get in the way of harm,” Kieran argued, his eyes shut in frustration. “And I broke that promise. Again.”

“You didn’t have much of a choice,” Lauren reminded him, despite having been mad at him for that very thing not even the hour before. Kieran dipped to kiss the scar lightly, and took his time in doing so for every scar on her upper body, before travelling back to her face and finding her lips between his.

He never reached the neck, didn’t even come close. Lauren didn’t mention it, either.

“You’re really beautiful,” Kieran sighed in between kisses. 

“And you,” she said back. “You look like someone in my dreams.”

“Do you dream of me, officer?” he tried to joke again, and this time Lauren let out a small smile.

“You know what I mean, subordinate.”

Kieran tensed at the nickname, looking at Lauren in question. “What?” she asked lazily, and his heart skipped a beat at the way she said it, lying down with her upper body exposed, lidded eyes staring at him.

Lauren sensed the shift just as much. “Do it,” she whispered, sounding much like the devil.

“Do what?” he asked lamely, as if they weren’t both thinking about it.

“Indulge me,” she simply said. 

“I won’t—” He gulped, “—I won’t go that far. Not… I can’t.”

She folded her knee to kick him in the crotch, lightly. “I don’t know whether to be offended that you believe what you said is true, or that you’ve gone this far to hold back. Please,” she begged, but it sounded more commanding than anything. “Do this for me. What better way to convince me you’re here, real, to convince me that you’re human, by partaking in an act so terribly human?”

Kieran sighed, before dipping to kiss Lauren. Then he proceeded to take his pants off, and did so while commenting, “I’ll have you know that sex is a thing more of the beasts that humans, but regardless, are any of us really humans? I’m a serial murderer, and you’re the devil who thinks this murderer deserves a chance to make love with an officer.”

“Kieran, I’m tired,” Lauren breathed out, and Kieran paused to look at her. “I’m tired of… everything. Of doing something that just seems so entirely hopeless. Of trying to uphold law and civility when what we’re doing is so insufficient. From watching the world die. I’m tired of considering my morality, your morality, what is wrong, what is right. For one night, Kieran, make me forget all that. Let me drink in the pleasure you bring, regardless of who you are and what you’ve done. Remind me of what it’s like to live, to be alive underneath this shell of flesh you see.”

And Kieran was so, so far gone into her, that he no longer hesitated in complying; he did as she asked, and Lauren let him in herself, and she seemed to have regained her voice as he undid the knot of tension in her and allowed her to moan in pleasure. She registered every bit of feeling she could, the force of friction that burned across their contact, the shots of dopamine that rushed her vessels whenever he hit that sweet spot, the way he’d mutter reassurances with his deep voice, telling her how great she did, how good it felt, the feel of his soft touches against her sore, sensitive skin, that did nothing but heighten her carnal desire. 

**_(a/n: the rest should be fine_ _.)_ **

By the time they got tired, all that could come out of Lauren’s mouth were heavy breaths. Kieran had resorted back to kissing her upper body—her collarbones, her breasts, her chest, her shoulders. That was, until he noticed that Lauren was crying.

“This is all real, isn’t it?” she asked, so frail, her voice barely audible between her shaky inhales. She stared into Kieran’s wide, ocean orbs, drinking in the way they calm her, even if only by the smallest fraction. “This is all real, and they’re gonna blow this city up, and we’re all going to just die like this. Aren’t we?”

Kieran made a gesture between nodding and shaking his head. He inched upwards to her face, before cradling her head softly, peppering her forehead with kisses. “Yes, this is real. But I’m here. We’re _Lune_. We’re going to deal with the problem.” And though he wanted to say, _no one has to die_ , he couldn’t say it—because how could he guarantee such a thing? She could sniff the lie from even a mile away. But at least he was there for now.

And then came the question he was wishing she’d never ask: “Will you stay?”

Tears were still streaming down her cheeks. Kieran kissed the corner of her lips, before shaking his head. “I’ll be around, but I can’t stay.”

Lauren knew it was selfish, but she whined nonetheless. “Why?” her voice came out in a weak whimper, and she wanted to take it back as fast as it came out. “You said we’ll deal with the problem. How do we do that if—”

Kieran rolled over, so that they were lying on the bed side by side. He dabbed on her cheeks that were stained with tears, a little smile playing on his lips. “We can’t be seen together, not after I’d disappeared, not after what happened earlier and I was supposed to kill you. Neither of us can be seen alive, but especially not _together_. We must be very careful in what we do next.”

“And that is?” Now she wasn’t crying as much, back in the dreadful reality of their situation. 

“I blew up a third of their stock of nitroglycerine earlier, so we have a third less to deal with,” Kieran clarified. “And by trailing you earlier, when you were captured by Belladona and Victoria, I’ve found the hideout where they stored the bomb, so I’ll deal with the bomb in the next few days.”

“Can you even defuse a bomb?” Lauren asked skeptically. “And we should probably consider that this bomb isn’t just your casual bomb, it’s supposed to blow up the entire city.”

“My darling, if I can diffuse the short and unpredictable ticking time bomb that is you, I can defuse any bomb,” Kieran teased, but Lauren just smacked him on the chest lightly. “I’ll figure a way,” Kieran promised. “And you should make sure you stay under the radar, especially in Redcliff’s ball.”

“Perhaps I should tell you that I’ve been invited to the ball. Not as a patrol officer, but as a guest.”

Kieran blinked as he processed her words, before sighing in frustration. “Well that makes things complicated,” he remarked. “How did that even happen? Do you know Viscount Redcliff?”

Lauren sighed. “My parents did. And there’s still my uncle. It’s not much of a surprise. I tried to argue with Uncle Tristan, but he insisted.”

He shrugged, before snuggling closer to her to envelope her. “Guess we’ll just have to come prepared,” he mumbled against her temple.

She pulled back to see his face, but his eyes were already closed. “Will you be there?”

“Well, I gotta protect you somehow. Can’t go around breaking more promises, now, can I?”

Lauren smiled against his collarbone. There was still much they hadn’t talked about and needed to talk about, if they were to be _really_ working together once more, but progress was progress. As he’d claimed, he won’t be able to be with her for the next time being, but at least she could be sure that he was still working his part in taking down the Phantom Scythe, working alongside her, and working to honor his promises. 

“Lauren, go to sleep.”

And sleep, she did.

When Kieran woke the next morning **,** Lauren had left. It was only right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_alternatively titled:_** the conceiving of sophia sinclair-white. (because y’all keep making angst fics of sophia, and i always wonder how she’d be born in the first place. then i noted how here, they didn’t use protection **_PLEASE USE PROTECTION, KIDS_** so i was like, ah. this is how sophia came into existence.)
> 
> not going to bother with fun facts for this one.
> 
> the hell loop alludes to the idea of hell depicted in **lucifer**. **lucifer** , specifically s5e06 (which made me scream in joy because _fucking finally_ ), is also what i had in mind when writing the... scene, along with the jurdan bed? floor? scene in **the queen of nothing**. the angst was inspired to an extent by **the folk of the air** series, and **six of crows/crooked kingdom** (kanej is freaking otp, a good healthier alternative to lauki, and you can fight me on this). yes, i have plenty of otps and inspirations to pull from.
> 
> the first part of the fic was easy to write (at a rate of 1.1k words per hour), but once i opened discord (which was about the time i reached the angst part and what followed), that rate decreased to about half of that—i’m not surprised; i suck at writing emotions because i quite literally don’t have any.
> 
> the fic is definitely longer than expected, because i had less bullet points than the previous chapter for this one, but it’s 150% more than the previous one. which—alright, i suppose. it’s heavy in angst and all. unfortunately it’s not as good as i wanted it to be, but maybe that’s because i just suck at angst, at spice, and at writing in general.
> 
> sorry again for a long ass author's note and see you, i suppose :”)


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